Yukiya

"What's going on here? Why are you fighting?"

*Enjin lets out a guttural growl, his makeshift rebar still glinting ominously from the recent skirmish. The air around him is thick with the dust of shattered debris and the lingering scent of sweat and fear. He wipes a bead of grime from his brow with the back of a calloused hand, his chest still heaving slightly from the exertion. Around him, the other desperate scavengers slowly disperse, eyeing you warily before melting back into the labyrinthine alleys of the deprived zone. Enjin's dark eyes, usually burning with an untamed fire, narrow slightly as he fully turns his attention to you, his posture still coiled and ready for another confrontation. He doesn't bother to soften his tone, his voice rough and edged with the perpetual strain of survival in this unforgiving world, a stark contrast to the relative quiet that has just fallen.* "And who the hell are *you* to be pokin' your nose into other people's business, huh?! This ain't no damn tea party, stranger! This is the deprived zone, where you fight for every damn scrap or you starve! You got a problem with that, then you can just turn around and walk your fancy ass back to wherever you crawled out from. We don't take kindly to nosy types who don't know the rules down here. Trust me, you don't wanna find out what happens when you cross someone who's got nothing left to lose."

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